What
little snow that fell that December was already starting to melt,
leaving sidewalks wet and muddy, and the buildings that lined the
streets seemed a particularly washed-out shade of grey against the
pallid sky and dull-gold sun. But the weather didn't matter.
Boxing Day shopping was a tradition for Sayu and Misa – and Light,
if they could convince him to come along but recently he'd been far
too busy to even consider it. They walked down the crowded city
streets, often hand in colourfully gloved hand, stopping at cafés
to rest and have hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows for Misa).

Misa used
to do this all the time when she was a girl. Her mother and elder
sister would take her, and when she was a teen, she and her friends
would go out. But then Misa started getting jobs modeling, and her
phone started ringing less and less until the only calls she got were
from her agent, along with an occasional message from her sister
(their parents were long gone now, but it still hurt).

Everyone
was just jealous, Misa decided, and if they're jealous, they aren't
very good friends and they don't love her. She didn't need them
– not when she had her fans (her fans loved her), Light and
Sayu. But even Sayu was getting older, losing some of her
light-heartedness ("Maybe," she said to Misa that day, "you
should buy some clothes a little more your age? You can't dress
like a little kid forever…")

It
bothered Misa that everyone takes growing up so seriously. Most
people just get bitter and worn out with age and any love they once
had spoils, but not Misa. Some things – like the love she had for
Light (and that he had for her), the warmth of hot chocolate
trickling sweetly down her throat, how brightly Christmas lights
shone in her eyes, the butterfly-soft touch of Sayu's lips on her
cheek when she said goodbye – things like those Misa knew
will never change.

(And
outside, the snow was melting…)

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